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Pieces of Me
Untitled I

Untitled I

I laugh aloud, stare in wonder then look to my friend.

I ask you, dear one, what goes on in the hearts of all men?

They give, and they take, they break and lie clearly,

even when it appears that they’ll get what they want freely.

I ask you my friend, what is behind the meaning of true love?

Why is it that men spill from their lips such things as filth,

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false tales and fables so profuse?

Is it merely their intent to confuse?

Three simple words, spoken so clear,

he said, “I love you,” then called me his dear.

What a game, what a game,

I’ll admit, spoken nicely, yet quite lame.

Yet his words stung like ice, spoken as true

as ultimately true as his eyes were ice blue.

I applaud myself then,

I ignored his words, and they weren’t spoken again.

I ask once, I ask twice, I ask once more again,

tell me, tell me, I implore, tell me my friend,

what goes on in the hearts of all men?

Why is it in the scheme of all things

that they lie to get everything,

even when they’ll get what they want freely?

Rather it’s gin, diamonds, gold, or rubies,

things with satin trims or even virgin pussy.

I asked you twice, I’ll ask you again,

so, tell me, my friend, do you comprehend

this creature we call men?